HeShe
by Sable a.k.a. Psychobitchua
Summary: Bullseye and Lady Skull have the same thought: "Below".


Title: He/She.  
  
Kinda long text of the song, isn't it? However, I couldn't cut any word, because the song itself is all about Bullseye, it could be used as his another theme song, I guess. I made only one small correction to make it fit to our psycho perfectly, though. It's the third chapter, going after "An Orange" and "3 reasons and a hazy reflection", I would gladly make it easier to read, updating the chapters, but I didn't figure out how to do it, silly me, lol. The last and the deepest look inside Bullseye, Lady Skull, their past, their present and one more word: below.  
  
"See me Hear me But don't touch me You should fear me Hold your life dearly 'Cause I'm seriously disturb That's my word... ... Pay for my sins  
  
Watch me grow turns  
  
Psycho begins  
  
Losses he wins Angel in heels Dancing on top Of heaven  
  
Don't know where I'm going But I know where I've been You can't hear a sound Clapping for pound I came to get down I came to get dirty I came to get even... ... I think I'm not gonna die today Everyone who's hurt me 's gonna pay How can such a short time feel so long? How can such a young life go so wrong?"  
  
Everlast, "So long".  
  
Nowadays everybody write autobiographies, it's like a f*cking decease: politicians, actors, singer, models, pornstars or just ordinary people, who used to know one from the selected list. Just one single moment of fame is enough to feel, how important your own ass is and what giant tragedy is waiting for humanity if they never know about your existence.  
  
Bullseye was a really valuable candidate to publish and sell one of the interesting books in the history. Some agents even tried to find, but how can you find, catch and have a business lunch with a legend, a person, that could never exist, a phantom himself?  
  
That's who he was for the city: a phantom, surrounded with the glow of scandalous fame, followed by the loop of bad, scary deeds. There were hunters, who managed to capture the edge of the loop and grab it firmly, pull to see its owner, but the only thing they saw was darkness. Dead darkness sometimes, when some of them were too persevering.  
  
Most people still think, that professional assassin, who calls himself "Bullseye" is just another city legend, a myth, that was created by society according to the Hollywood everlasting law: if you have a hero, there must be an antihero, too, for balance, you know. Because it's physically impossible to do things he did, be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, be a psycho and think rationally, be a ghost, coming from the darkness of the streets and sometimes appearing in the broad daylight and commit absolutely real and physical crimes.  
  
With a situation like this around his precious person, Bullseye, wanting it or not, thought sometimes about time, choosing the general category for the beginning. Maybe, just maybe his inflamed brain wanted to sit and reminisce about the past, the factors, that made him the way he was, but the thing was he knew almost nothing about his past. His brain throw away all the facts, that could prevent his job, and Bullseye was comfortable with the small amount of knowledge about himself BEFORE he had.  
  
He was born, raised, studied... Until the moment when he realize, that the real education and real life situations can never be treated right inside the school walls. He left home, getting bored, he forgot his family not because of the protection instinct. That was the favorite term of the psychologist, who his mother, ordinary woman, not a demon as many of past, present and future Bullseye victims could think, was visiting after her child disappeared, making all the block thigh in relief. He used to tell, that, feeling the potential aggression inside him, her baby - boy left to not let himself hurt somebody he loved. God, he was so cruelly wrong...  
  
Bullseye never loved anybody and if, only if he got the idea, that his mother is talking too much or his father is watching wrong channel, he would quickly fix the problem. With his own two hands. So, parents even had no idea, how lucky they truly were...  
  
One day Bullseye just found himself walking down the street in the big city, and this was the day of the beginning of his career. All the life before the deadly assassin named Bullseye was born was like an old puzzle game, when almost all the pieces are lost, and those, that left, can't make the full picture anyway. Bullseye got these left pieces, that's all he had.  
  
The melodic ringing of the braking glass.  
  
He never knew he felt the talent for certain things in early childhood and started to practice, not seeing the clear purpose of doing it, just in case, if someday somehow he will need it. His first targets -- he didn't call them "targets" at that time -- were empty bottles. Standing in line, like a rebels at the execution, they were destroyed quickly with the cold calmness of the professional. Even then, he never needed to throw small river stones twice.  
  
The hysterical screams.  
  
Interesting, isn't it?  
  
The smell of fear, making the heart to beat faster, faster than the smell of money. Smell of money is nothing comparing to adrenaline in the air.  
  
The body of an old mechanic, who usually made the copies of lost keys, but for the first time decided to take a special order. The client was a strange guy, his eyes -- just too alive -- even a little crazy, taking chaotic glances around, but very generous. He was a bit inexact with the description, but brought some sketches, which he treated like an icons. Some kind of alternative weapon, he thought, reminding of a stars or something. After the job was done, mechanic died -- actually, was killed by his own creation -- Bullseye just started to practice his "no witnesses" politics.  
  
A woman's skin. Too soft, too smooth -- he hated it. Fakeness. So their relationships didn't last long. His relationships with anybody didn't last long. He liked life the way it was, the way it was on the dark streets, not on TV screen or shiny magazine covers.  
  
He slightly turned his head to the right, continuing to walk. There was one thing he liked about the woman, who became his partner. Her ugliness was beautiful. So beautiful, that it turned him on. She was a burden, stupid dolly, who thought too much and acted too slow for his life rhythm, but he wanted to touch her scars with his fingers, feeling their depth and ugliness, closing his eyes, he could feel the pain they caused many years ago. He would give his ear away to see the despair on her face, when she saw her reflection in the mirror.  
  
But now his twisted mind was working. Matt Murdock wasn't in this world. He couldn't quite explain this though or feeling, but he couldn't feel his worst enemy's energy, his physical presence. He would recognize him, be sure, but something was just wrong. Daredevil had a special shelter, but he had all night to find it. They had all night... And they were heading to the church, where the last, so shameful combat took place not long ago...  
  
THE END.  
  
Title: She.  
  
It's just one of those days When you don't wanna wake up Everything is f*cked Everybody sux You don't really know why But want to justify Ripping someone's head off No human contact And If you interact You're life is on contract You best bet is to stay away motherf*cker It just one of those days!! Its all about the he says she says bullshit  
  
I think you better quit  
  
Lettin' shit slip  
  
Or you'll be leavin with a fat lip  
  
Its all about the he says she says bullshit  
  
I think you better quit talkin that shit  
  
(Punk, so come and get it)  
  
Its just one of those days  
  
Feelin' like a freight train  
  
First one to complain  
  
Leaves with a blood stain  
  
Damn right I'm a maniac  
  
You better watch your back  
  
Cuz I'm fuckin' up your program  
  
And if your stuck up  
  
You just lucked up  
  
Next in line to get fucked up  
  
Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker  
  
Its just one of those days!!  
  
I feel like shit  
  
My suggestion is to keep your distance cuz right now im dangerous..."  
Limp Bizkit, "Break stuff"  
  
Kingpin never worked with women, considering them just as element of decoration, a nice add to the image, a passionate partner in bed, but never a creature, who is capable to take care of serious business. Lady Skull was an exception from the rule, since every rule has to have a single exception to be a rule, actually. Plus, he never met a person, who would call her "woman". She was a monster. Heavy Homeboy boots carefully stepped inside the building. A big warehouse in the industrial part of the city was just a perfect place. Boots were walking past boxes of clothes -- the warehouse was a property of one of the most fancy boutiques -- and, of course, security was functioning perfectly. Was. Boots kicked the boxes around, cleaning the place. Dark eyes took a quick glance to the two bodies near the wall. No, they won't move today, they will never ever move again, because they weren't smart and disrespect Lady Skull. It's difficult really to say, who from two partners was more aggressive -- Kingpin choose them from thousands of candidates, who wanted to work with him, because the load of rage and craziness was equal. Just a different kind. Lady Skull's aggression was kinda milder and she could react healthy in some life situations, but not today. They started to laugh, not really realizing, that the horrible mistake was already made and nothing in the whole world can fix the situation. She may be proud of her fight scars, but deep inside her soul, where a woman, not a monster was living in the dark corner, she was hurt. A natural process for a woman who used to be beautiful. So they laughed and recommended to find another Halloween costume, since in this outfit she looks like death itself. "That's the point, stupid", a woman in dark cloak muttered, before unleashing her silver snakes.  
  
She carefully removed her cloak and mask, placing them carefully on the floor. Then she set down, crossing her legs -- the part of everyday ritual -- and... saw a bunch of naked dummies in the corner. Forgotten, all covered with dust, they looked like a secret burial place of some serial maniac... which was a pleasant view, of course. Slow smile touched the corners of her mouth. "Life is plastic... It's fantastic..." she sang quietly, getting near to the dummies. In twenty minutes she was proudly standing before her plastic army of sexless bald dolls. Elektra was using bags with sand for her training... She have never got the chance to use all her practice, because Bullseye terminated her meaningless life before she managed to remember her lessons. Daddy's girl probably didn't train against real opponents -- or even dummies -- because daddy was afraid it could make her cruel. Lady Skull preferred to stay in conditions close to natural. Life ain't a birthday cake, you never know what candle will be your last. Elektra was overprotected. Elektra was too positive. She would never get the idea of kidnapping a professional boxer from local club or a street fighter without fear and make him fight her to death. Of course, she never lost. Sometimes the victory was quick and easy, sometimes she was on the edge, but not too far. Lady Skull was special among crazy assassins Kingpin used to deal with. Unlike her partner Bullseye, deep inside her head she had the knowledge, that death is possible. It didn't stop her from doing crazy things and dancing tango on the edge, but she just knew. And was always prepared, so it was impossible to surprise her. She positioned each of her motionless victims in the most natural position she could. Dummies were facing her, "walking", "turning around" to look at the death's eyes. Close to natural condition. She was pleased. She was pleased even more, turning her stereo system on and listening to the first aggressive accords of Limp Bizkit. She took her leather gloves and put them on. The idea of creating a weapon, which matched her personality perfectly, came from the early childhood. Yes, unlike Bullseye, she had past and memories she would forgot gladly. Once gypsy circus visited their city. "Circus" -- it was actually too loud word for a fair and some performances. She didn't care about card focuses and other crap, but one guy really bewitched her. A big man in leather, with long dirty hear and beard, that covered his face completely, leaving only the eyes of predator. A man with a right hand in the glove without fingers. Hawk was sitting on it, and the thin chain connected his claw with the master's fingers. The man was there as a Mickey Mouse in Disneyland -- people came up to him, took some pictures, not really knowing, who's more dangerous, the killer bird or its master, to show the photos then to the family members and telling how brave they were to get near these two. Well, Lady Skull wasn't interested in photography. She could leave the fair and became a school teacher... well, evil teacher, but still... She could, but a dirty grey dove changed her destiny. She saw it flying in the blue sky, and then a bigger, darker bird attacked her with the pure rage she never saw before, bright red blood exploded... Women cried and closed the eyes of their children with their palms, and she was just standing motionless, watching the dove falls down, torn into pieces. A big guy in leather shouted something and turned his hand around, making the chain circle his protected wrist and elbow. Quickly as a flash of light, hawk was again on the hand of his master. The big guy in leather didn't know, that he became a godfather for a little girl, who was called Tessa by her mother. She had two kinds of blades: a half moon ones, which she used during the "signing the agreement" with Bullseye, and almost the same, but a bit smaller, with the third "tooth" in the middle. The second ones were more comfortable for the close fight -- they were laying flat on her palms with three sharp edges sticking between her fingers, like a claws.  
  
It took a long years of practice before she could sufficiently use her "hawks" without being hurt. She used leather gloves to protect her arms from long chains.  
  
With a loud cracking sound the head of the dummy was broken into pieces. Lady Skull smiled baring her teeth. She thought it would be too fake, in Elektra's style, but it turned out to be fun. Even had a shade of vandalism -- her personal religion. Taking a couple of graceful steps back she let she chain go around her hand with dangerous whistle and caught the half moon shaped blade with her fingers. The whole action took about a second.  
  
The pure pleasure of own power and invulnerability -- that's the drug Bullseye and herself were using like a hopeless junkies. The blade reached forward, cutting the air, and another head was down. Its twin run into the plastic chest of the executed dummy. She yanked the chain, and the body fell down. Then another and another, until she was standing in the middle of the fake crowd. "Daredevil, - she hissed, - when will you get, that the history is written with bad deeds, not good ones? And nobody can change this order, even you."  
  
She furiously looked around, seeing only empty eyes. BLIND eyes. She roared and started to spin round quicker and quicker, letting the chains go until they were nearly touching the floor, and then from speed of rotating blades were creating a horizontal circle around her, crushing everything around. She stopped only when all dummies were crushed into small pieces on the floor. Chains surrounded her arms like bracelets, and she hid blades in special pockets of her sleeves.  
  
One dark night Elektra was dancing with her pain, left all alone, tearing the bags of sand with her sai, the weapon, that betrayed her. Lady Skull was dancing with her rage, always being alone, and her "hawks" never betrayed her.  
  
In twenty minutes she was laying at the edge of the roof of one business building in the central part of the city, far from Hell's Kitchen, listening to the harsh breathing of the city below.  
  
Bullseye needed to crush something. Bad. After ten circles around the bed, acting like a tiger in a cell, he finally stopped and grabbed his cell phone, but his hand stopped in the air. He had to make a call, he had to. No call -- no interaction, no interaction -- no action, no action -- no dead Daredevil, no dead Daredevil, and he will have to stay with this woman FOREVER.  
  
"No," he hissed, shaking his head hard, trying to chase away the image of Lady Skull, that was already put inside his brain. He quickly dialed the number and waited.  
  
Lady Skull started to drift into sleep, laying comfortable on her stomach and moving her legs in the air slowly. Her phone started to ring the melody from "13 Ghosts" soundtrack: "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who will survive, who will be next to fall?". She grabbed the phone lazily, but before she managed to press "talk" button, it went quiet.  
  
Bullseye roared and threw his phone away. Bitch, bitch, bitch. HE had to call her? He had to? She is so damn busy, that can't stay around, when they have things to do for the night? Pretty dolly thinks too much about herself. He have never called somebody, everybody were calling him, trying to get a second of his free time...  
  
Lost in his normal condition -- quiet craziness -- he kinda forgot, that he wanted to get rid of her no matter it takes, to see her only when it's really necessary. But it didn't matter now. He shook his head one more time and reached to the phone again. His finger stopped in the air before pressing the first number. Humiliation. He will demand double, no, triple price for this case.  
  
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall..." The woman's hand was quicker than light. She really hated phone jokes and didn't want to let the bastard get away with it, no matter who was it.  
  
"What?" she shouted.  
  
Bullseye squeezed his fist too tight, and blood started to pour from under his nails. He sniffed and slowly opened his mouth to start the worst conversation he ever had.  
  
Very unsatisfied with the silence on the line, Lady Skull looked at the display. "Irish bastard" was written there with electric letters.  
  
"Oh, come on, sweetheart, don't be shy", she cheered, turning to lay on her back.  
  
Only a deaf person could not to hear the poison inside this sweet voice. Bullseye in his still damaged room started to shake. He needed to put a finger to stop his left eyelid from shaking. Then he realized, that if he wanted the conversation to be over, he has to start it.  
  
It was a giant effort. She had no idea how many nerves it took to make his open lips move and create sounds. Bitch.  
  
"Dolly," he breathed out.  
  
"Yeah?" she replied, watching the high sky in twilight.  
  
She had already let her aggression out, destroying the bunch of dummies and two or three -- she could never be sure about numbers -- so for next hour or so she was relatively calm and peacefully. Relatively.  
  
"Eight o'clock. Here."  
  
"Fine..." before she could add something soft and nice to piss him off even more, if it was possible, the connection was interrupted.  
  
The corners of her mouth shuddered -- the well-known so-called smile of Lady Skull, the maximal degree of displaying positive emotion -- and she returned to her sky.  
  
The connection wasn't interrupted in the natural way. The cell phone flew to the table at the opposite corner of the room, where the small bottle of whiskey was standing. Bullseye never missed. He didn't need the cell phone for the next 24 hours, anyway.  
  
She turned her face to him, as they continued to walk down the street, never touching each other, but walking the same way -- without rush, like real professionals should. There was one thing she liked about him. He acted. An average male representative of humanity spends about five minutes in his life for pure action, without sentimental reminiscing, shadows of doubt and uncertainty, stupid and meaningless questions. And Bullseye lived each moment this way, in pure action, just like she was.  
  
If only she didn't despise humanity so hard, she probably would like him... a bit.  
  
He stopped. She followed his furious gaze and saw a small church. Now really, where else can a little blind orphan find a shelter? But the answer was too obvious for a man, who doesn't want to be found. But she stopped, too. Like two dogs on hunting they were listening, watching, feeling. Daredevil was there. But not quite there. Not above the ground. Their attentive and stressed gazes crossed. They didn't speak, reading the thought, that came simultaneously to both of them, in each other's eyes. The thought was short. One single word.  
  
Below.  
  
THE END. 


End file.
